Sunday, October 31, 2010

Contrary to family tradition, I did not throw a Hadley Halloween party. This is primarily because I am too busy, but secondarily, I didn't want to clean my house just to have it destroyed again. Also, Halloween sugar cookies? Doesn't that just sound exhausting?

I am working on numerous things for school which are neither interesting nor pertinent to most people. However, I don't let this deter me from doing my craptastic best. I have suddenly (and to the surprise of anyone who knew me as a student) achieved a reputation as an overachiever. My AT teacher would be shocked, surely, as would my mother.

Whenever I get my grades Rhett wants to know what my exact percentage was. Whether it is a 93% or a 98%, Rhett is always disappointed in me. This is because Rhett views any percentage over a 90% as wasted effort. If, for example, I were to get a 98%, Rhett will tell me that I worked 8% too hard. This is because Rhett is awesome, and I have decided that I need to adopt more of his life attitudes.

Anyway. Back to Halloween. Veevs dressed up as the great Kate Wetherall (from The Mysterious Benedict Society books), and yes, she had to explain that all night long. Spe wanted to be a skeleton. I had previously bought him some skeleton pajamas, and he was insistent that instead of a real costume, he just wanted to wear those pajamas. AWESOME! Jakers wanted to be a spider, but changed his mind, seventy million times, so he ended up being a lion. We had that from three years ago. Baby Logan was a rooster, which is also a tried and true costume.

We had a trunk or treat at our church, and one of our children who shall not remain anonymous in any way whatsoever (Jakers) pulled down his lion trousers and started urinating into the tall grasses in front of the church. I bet only a hundred people saw him. Because he is awesome.

That was our Halloween. A small recap:

1) I did not have a party.2) No one got a new costume.3) My child urinated in public.4) I am awesome. So awesome it is almost embarrassing.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

I can't stop watching MI-5. It's phenomenal. Not just because of Richard Armitage, although I love him, too. The show is on my local public broadcasting station, and we're off season now, so we're watching reruns. But I'm dying to know: ROZ? ALIVE OR DEAD?

I love the action, the Britishness, the awesomeness of the plots. But the real reason I love it is because Lucas has/had this American girlfriend who worked for the CIA, and lawsie mercy, is her American accent awful. I love it. For some reason, it makes me postively gleeful.

It's payback for all the times Americans slaughter the British accent and pretend they're doing it just fine.

Whenever Americans find out I lived in England for a year and a half, they almost always give me their best British accent. And by best, I mean, holy crap, what accent are you even trying for?

If you have it in your area, you should be watching MI-5. And if you're one of my British friends who is going to see the next season a whole five months before I am, ANSWER ME! ROZ? ALIVE OR DEAD? I must know.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

So, I'm pretty sick right now. Not just the polite, slight-headache "I am not feeling quite the thing" of the Regency romances (God bless you, Georgette Heyer.), but more of the kind of sick where I just turned to Rhett and said in my hoarse-almost-dying-voice, "Look, if I die, please don't marry so and so." Rhett rolled his eyes, went upstairs to watch football, and left me with a sink of dirty dishes. I agreed to put off dying until the dishes were done, for the sake of my family.

Rhett hates it when I talk about my death as if it were impending (probably because the death rate in his family is seventeen thousand times higher than the death rate in mine), but I just like to know that my wishes will be respected, even when I'm dead.

When we were driving across Louisiana last year, we passed a mausoleum retailer (I have no idea what this line of work is officially called, but just roll with me here) off the freeway, in the middle of nowhere. It put me in mind of a few matters that I needed to discuss with Rhett. Just in case.

"I'd like to be cremated when I die, Rhett." It's true. I would rather be cremated than experience the indignities of embalming. Most Mormons prefer embalming, but I have never been overly concerned with conformity.

"No." Rhett was driving, and he didn't even bother to look over at me.

"No, I'm serious. I want to be cremated."

"No."

"But why? It would be cheaper." I believe that the bottom line is the way to Rhett's heart in almost every instance.

"No."

"But it's what I want." I also believe that Rhett wants to give me my way, all the time.

"So what? You'll be dead. I'll do what I want, for once."

"C'mon, Rhett. You can carry my ashes all over the place with you. You can have them mixed with paint and have an artist draw my portrait with paint that is made of me. So cool!"

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Should I even bother anymore? (Not, of course, that I have been overbothered with this blog, obviously).

Anyway--a few random things that should have received their own posts, but were swept aside in a rush of other more important things like feeding kids, laundry, schoolwork, etc. Life has never been so busy around here as it is this semester.

1) On the second day of school, Spe sat at my kitchen table, drinking a Capri-Sun and having a cookie. "Mom," he said to me (so sincerely!), "How do you even play boys versus girls anyway?"

I hid a grin, and responded, "I don't know, bud. I think I've forgotten the rules. What do you think?"

"I don't know. They're chasing us, but it's not tag!"

My sweet boy.

2) My parents came and we all trekked to San Antonio to visit Sea World. It was a cold and rainy day, and my children discovered that I am the world's biggest baby when it comes to roller coasters. But aside from that, we had a great time. While we were there, Rhett, in an effort to shore up his position as my mom's favorite, asked her to show him how to find his genealogy.

A summation: My genealogy runs through the simple, hardworking folk of the Derbyshire Dales, Shropshire, and other various English places (there are also some Danish folk mixed in for good measure). One of Rhett's lines, on the other hand, runs straight into royalty, tracing back to the Plantagenet line, William the Conquerer, Roman emperors, etc.

It has been a trying time in our marriage. He is wont to say things like, "I'll just leave these dishes here for the peasants to take care of," or "I would say something crass, but my royal breeding won't permit me." (Funny how it never stopped him before.) I am trying to keep him humble by reminding him that his pedigree is really a history of inbreeding, conquest, and oppression, but nothing works.

I may not be impressed, but my mom was, and for Rhett, that's the most important thing.

3) I am now working as a "temporary staff" member at my university. I am grading papers. This is farcical, because I despise grading papers. It was the only part of teaching that I hated. Yay! I get to do it again! Actually, I got on the computer to grade papers. Is anyone surprised that I wandered over here and decided that I simply MUST post before I grade papers? Procrastination is key to who I am as a person.